


The Pull

by Kika988



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Hair-pulling, Kink Discovery, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 16:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18098354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/pseuds/Kika988
Summary: Keith has gotten in over his head. He's not ashamed to admit that -- to himself, anyway. He gets in over his head fairly often, and it usually works out, but this time is different. This time it's Shiro.Keith needs a helping hand with his hair, and there's no one he trusts more than Shiro. There's no way something as simple as hair-braiding could take a turn for the unexpected, right?Right?





	The Pull

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KaiserNoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiserNoire/gifts).



> It's a couple days late, but happy birthday Misty! Your kink list on Twitter was very inspiring, to say the least ;-)
> 
> This is far from my first smut piece, but _is_ my first NSFW fic starring Sheith. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Keith shows up on the Atlas after a Blade mission with a ponytail, Shiro actually does a double-take. 

He's had plenty of practice pretending he doesn't find his best friend outrageously attractive, but honestly, there is really only so much he can do when Keith shows up in that skin-tight Blade suit and a _ponytail_. When Shiro brings it up at dinner, Keith seems a bit sheepish, reaching up to tug at it. 

"Oh, yeah. At first I just never got around to cutting it, but I think I kind of like it," he admits. "Figured I'd let it grow a while and see how it goes." 

"Well, it, uh. It suits you," Shiro says, stumbling just a little over his words. 

"A bit longer and you'll be able to braid it," Allura says, piping up from a few seats down. Her own hair is braided and wrapped around her head like a crown made of plaited clouds. Keith nods. 

"Yeah, my mom brought that up too. Apparently braids are sort of an honor thing in Galra society and I'm a little young for it, but she said she doubted anyone would argue I've earned it, considering I'm the black paladin and all," he explains.

Shiro huffs out a laugh. "I can't imagine anyone putting up much of a fight about it," he agrees, while trying very hard not to think about Keith with even longer hair.

A few months later, Keith disappears for another mission, and comes back with his hair in a messy bun at the nape of his neck. Shiro knows, logically, that Keith has only been gone for a couple of weeks, so his hair isn't _that_ much longer than it had been when he'd last seen him, and yet. 

And yet. 

Shiro is toweling off after his post-training shower a couple of days after Keith's return when he steps out of his bathroom to find Keith sitting on his couch. They've long had each others' prints keyed to their doors, so it's not out of the ordinary, but he still blinks in surprise since they hadn't discussed meeting up tonight. 

"I need some help," Keith says bluntly, frustration plain in his tone. "I brought payment," he added, holding up a takeout container from the mess hall. "They had mac and cheese."

Shiro laughs. "You know I'll help with whatever it is without payment, but it's appreciated," he says, tugging on a t-shirt. "What do you need?" Keith tosses his holopad onto the couch cushion next to him, and Shiro sits, picking it up to frown at the screen. "A… braiding tutorial?" 

"It seems so simple, and I can braid my mom's hair, but I can't do my own," Keith says, scowling. "It's just such an awkward angle. So, uh. Think you could try?" It takes a moment for his meaning to sink in. 

"You want me to braid your hair?" Shiro asks, eyebrows nearly at his hairline.

Keith nods. "I mean… if you're willing to try." 

"I'm willing to _try_ , but--" Shiro holds up his prosthetic hand, wiggling the large fingers. "I'm still working on the dexterity on this thing. Pidge has made a few adjustments, but a lot of it is just me needing to work on my fine motor skills." 

Keith shrugs. "This seems like as good a way to practice as any, right?" 

"I don't want to hurt you," Shiro says, frowning. Keith waves away his concerns as he slides to the floor, situating himself in front of Shiro. 

"Don't worry about it, I've got a pretty tough skull. You've knocked it against the mat often enough," he points out. 

Shiro laughs, shaking his head. "I'm pretty sure this is different, but if you're sure…" 

It is somehow simultaneously the _best_ and _worst_ thing. Thankfully the guide Keith found is pretty thorough, but Shiro keeps getting distracted by the fact that he has his fingers buried in Keith's hair and the way Keith leans so easily back against the couch between Shiro's legs, so close and yet so far to how Shiro's imagined him countless times before. 

With great determination, Shiro wrenches his mind back to the task at hand, focusing on the tutorial. He carefully divides the hair into three parts, and starts plaiting them together. It's slow-going, and he gets frustrated with how uncooperative his prosthetic seems. 

The first time he accidentally pulls too hard on Keith's hair, Keith lets out a surprised hiss, and Shiro drops the hair instinctively. 

"I'm sorry," he apologizes immediately. "I knew I couldn't do it with this hand, it's just too-"

"It's fine," Keith interrupts, his tone firm and reassuring. "Seriously, Shiro, it wasn't bad. Keep going." 

The next time, Keith's reaction is more controlled, but Shiro can't miss the way he tenses up when he pulls too hard. It happens a few more times, but eventually Keith's hair is tied up into something… resembling a braid. If you're being charitable, which of course Keith is. 

"It's better than what I was able to do," Keith says, looking in the mirror of Shiro's bathroom. Shiro has his doubts -- it's lopsided and there's entire chunks of hair falling out of the braid, and he couldn't braid it all the way to the end because the smaller pieces of hair got too fiddly for his uncoordinated fingers, so it's really more of a half-braid-half-ponytail. But Keith seems satisfied with it, enough so that he turns to Shiro and asks if he'd be willing to do it again tomorrow. 

It's a bad idea. It's a lot of contact for a touch-starved man, a lot of denial when he's already been struggling with how beautiful Keith has become since he returned from the space whale older and wider and _wiser_. 

But he's never been good at telling Keith no, so of course he agrees. 

* * *

Keith has gotten in over his head. He's not ashamed to admit that -- to himself, anyway. He gets in over his head fairly often, and it usually works out, but this time is different. This time it's Shiro. 

His initial request had been entirely innocent. He'd been struggling with braiding his hair, and he needed help with it. There weren't many people he felt comfortable asking for help with that, so asking Shiro seemed like the obvious choice. He trusted Shiro with anything and everything. 

And look, Keith's not an idiot. He knows that what he feels for Shiro is more than mere friendship, and he knows Shiro is hot. He'd have to be dead to not notice that. But honestly, he'd expected the hardest part of this to be sitting between Shiro's legs.

Then… then Shiro had pulled his hair. 

He'd been braced for the possibility of pain; that was no problem. What he _hadn't_ expected was the way the sharp pull would send bright pinpricks of pleasure down his spine. He'd barely held in the gasp that had threatened to escape, instead letting it escape as a hiss Shiro had heard and panicked over. 

He should have called it off then. He should have walked away with a simple thanks half an hour later after seeing the mess of his hair in the mirror, but he was a glutton for punishment, so it had somehow turned into a daily ritual. 

"So your schedule's pretty full today?"

"Yeah," Shiro says regretfully from behind Keith. "Buzz me when you're heading to the mess hall, though, and I can meet you for lunch." 

"Sounds good," Keith agrees easily. When Shiro taps his shoulder, he holds up the hair tie he'd had around his wrist. 

They've been doing this for weeks now, and it shows when Keith gets up to look in the mirror, the braid sleek and even, falling in a shining plait between his shoulder blades. 

"I think it's safe to say your fine motor control is improving," Keith says, looking at Shiro in the mirror with a grin. 

Shiro nods. "I've actually noticed a difference in how I'm able to use it in other things, too. Thanks for letting me practice on you." 

"Sounds like we both benefit," Keith replies, pleased if still a bit guilty. They're pulling their uniform jackets on when Shiro speaks up again. 

"I, uh, looked up some other braiding tutorials," he says. "Allura mentioned them when I told her I'd been learning. I thought, if you didn't mind, I might try some different things?" he offers. "Like a fishtail braid or something? It's fine if you don't want to, though, I know I just now got this one looking decent and managed to figure out how to not pull your hair all the time, so-" 

"No, it's fine," Keith interrupts. "Really, I, uh. I have a tough scalp so the pulling didn't bother me at all. And it'd be cool to see what else we can do with it, right?"

Keith is blushing. He can _feel_ it and can't do a damn thing to stop it. He has no idea how to explain it away, but thankfully Shiro doesn't ask, despite his eyes narrowing in something like suspicion. 

"Sounds good," Shiro says with a smile. "Maybe we could try one tonight, if you want to eat dinner here? That way if you don't like it I can just do a normal braid in the morning." 

"Great," Keith agrees easily. "Looking forward to it." 

See, the thing is, Keith's looking forward to it _too_ much, and sooner or later Shiro's going to figure that out. Truthfully, Keith figured out how to braid his own hair a few weeks back when a mission took him away for a few days, but he enjoys Shiro's hands in his hair too much to admit that. 

But hey, on the bright side, thanks to daily sessions of the man he's in love with pulling his hair off and on for fifteen minutes or more, Keith's become a master at hiding his arousal, at least enough that he can escape Shiro's quarters and take care of it. 

* * *

Keith's up to something. Shiro has known him too long to have missed out on all the little clues. The stammer earlier when Shiro had brought up new braiding possibilities. The _blush_ \-- what had that been about?

He can only really think of one possibility, but he refuses to acknowledge it as anything more than wishful thinking. 

Well, at least until he's able to test the hypothesis. It was why he'd suggested Keith come over to try a new braid tonight. There had been an odd sort of tension over lunch that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he'd confirmed their plans for that evening, so now he is waiting in his quarters. His nerves are jangling as he flexes his prosthetic hand as if to warm it up, which is ironic, considering half of his plan is _purposefully_ messing up. 

He's pulling the lasagna out of the oven when Keith arrives, and things seem calm, normal even, as they joke and talk about their day, uniform jackets shed over the back of the couch and boots kicked off by the door. It's just eating dinner with his (unfairly attractive) best friend, no plans or weirdness or strange undercurrents of tension -- at least not beyond what's been there for months, maybe years, that he's become an expert at ignoring. 

All too soon, though, they're moving to the couch, Keith taking his position on the floor, sitting back between Shiro's knees. This time, there's a mirror on the coffee table in front of Keith's face. 

"The tutorial said seeing the front might be helpful for this one, too," he explains at Keith's questioning glance. He's lying, and Keith accepts it so easily he almost feels guilty about it.

"Just, uh. Just let me know if I pull too hard," Shiro says as he runs the brush through Keith's hair. There's a pause, barely noticeable, that probably would have slipped past him if Shiro wasn't listening for it. 

"Yeah, sure," Keith agrees, sounding casual and unbothered. Maybe he is. Maybe this is all in Shiro's head. 

Once he's done brushing, Shiro works his fingers through Keith's hair, slowly separating it into two thick sections. That's when he wraps the right section around two of the fingers on his prosthetic and tugs, a few degrees harder than necessary. It's quiet enough in the room that he can hear the hitch in Keith's breath. He chances a glance down to the mirror just in time to see Keith's adam's apple bob on a swallow. Interesting. 

"Sorry," Shiro says quietly. 

Keith glances up, meeting Shiro's eyes in the mirror. "It's okay." Their eyes catch and hold for a moment, and Shiro can't help but wonder if it feels as charged for Keith. He looks back to Keith's hair, separating out two smaller sections of hair and starting the braid.

He lets a few minutes pass in silence, carefully weaving the pattern into Keith's hair, before he tries again, pulling a little harder on the braid under the guise of tightening up the weave. This time he's ready, watching Keith's face in the mirror, so he sees the way his eyes go dark for a brief moment before they flicker closed, the way a flush rises on his cheeks, and he can't help how he sucks in a breath in response. 

Keith hears it, always attuned to Shiro, always attentive, and he goes still. "Shiro?" 

Shiro's frozen, his fingers buried in Keith's hair as he struggles to come up with something, _anything_ to say. He'd suspected, but suspecting and _seeing_ are two very different things. 

Now he's seen and he can't _unsee_ and Keith is turning, rising on his knees, so Shiro panics, tightening his hand in Keith's hair. Keith isn't expecting that, not now, and the low whine that escapes before he can stop it is _devastating_. 

"You could have said," Shiro says, his voice hoarse, the fingers of his left hand still tangled in Keith's half-braided hair. 

There's a long, tense silence before Keith replies. "No," he says slowly, not meeting Shiro's eyes. "I couldn't." Shiro's fingers flex instinctively in Keith's hair, and he sucks in a breath at the way Keith's eyelids flicker at the sensation. 

"Is it just- just the hair, or…" He's not sure how to articulate what he wants to ask, but as always, Keith understands him. 

"No," he says simply. "The hair thing was a surprise. The fact that it's _you_... that was less of a surprise." He's still not meeting Shiro's eyes. "So, uh. Yeah. You can see why I couldn't have said." 

Shiro huffs out a laugh, breathless and almost hysterical. "Keith, that's- you-" He shakes his head, giving up on words and using his grip on Keith's hair to pull him closer as Shiro leans in. 

He means for it to be slow and sweet, he really does. He wants to show Keith how he feels since he's no good at saying it; wants to convey the longing he's felt for so long through gentle, soft movements. 

Unfortunately, he's also been half-hard since he first put his hands into Keith's hair and he's been dreaming of kissing Keith for longer than he cares to admit, so when Keith groans against Shiro's lips, it suddenly morphs into something deeper, dirtier. He's honestly not even sure who starts it, but suddenly the relatively chaste kiss is involving tongues and teeth, and when they part with a gasp for air, Shiro tugs on Keith's hair, pulling his head back to expose his neck, which Shiro promptly licks and nips his way down. The taste of Keith's skin is intoxicating, and he's not sure he'll ever get enough of it.

"Fuck, Shiro," Keith gasps, hands scrabbling for purchase on Shiro's shoulders. 

"Do you have any idea," Shiro says against Keith's neck, "how long I've wanted to do this? How long I've been scared to get too close or touch you, when it was all I wanted to do?" He's slowed down now, bent forward on the couch to mouth at Keith's neck where he still kneels on the floor in front of Shiro. 

"Shiro, I've wanted your hands on me since I was too young for it to be a good idea," Keith laughs, stunning Shiro into stillness. 

"That long?" 

Keith shrugs. "Have you seen yourself?" he asks pointedly, shifting his hands to Shiro's thighs. Shiro flushes, knowing his erection has to be laughably apparent from Keith's angle. He sees Keith's gaze drop, catch in Shiro's lap. He sees Keith _lick his lips_ and briefly wonders if this is all just an incredibly vivid dream. 

"We should… we should talk," Shiro offers weakly as Keith leans in, dropping little kisses and bites all along Shiro's jawline, rasping against the light stubble there. 

"Yeah," Keith agrees, before catching Shiro's lips in another kiss, slick and smooth and lasting long enough for Shiro to catch himself moaning into Keith's mouth before they break apart. "Later. Right now I wanna suck your dick," he says bluntly. 

" _Keith_ -"

"You've been pulling on my hair for _weeks_ , Shiro," Keith says. "Weeks of me going back to my room every day to jerk off after you got done with my hair. Weeks of me trying to fight my responses to a kink I didn't even know I _had_ before now. So unless you object, I'd _really_ like to suck your dick while you pull on my hair." 

There's really nothing Shiro can say to that, so he just nods, and files away the almost feral grin Keith gives him in response as one of the many things he has to think further on later. 

Later, because right now Keith is pulling off Shiro's shirt and nipping at his collarbone hard enough to make Shiro gasp in surprise; hard enough to leave a mark there, a bruise he'll feel under his uniform jacket tomorrow, reminding him all day of everything that happens tonight. Everything, from the way Keith's mouth is working its way down Shiro's torso to the way his hands grip Shiro's hips, firm and reassuring. 

Keith looks up at Shiro through his lashes at the sound of Shiro's breath hitching when Keith flicks a tongue over one pebbled nipple. There's a smirk playing over his lips, an expression that is somehow teasing and open at the same time. Shiro swears he can feel that smirk lodging itself somewhere behind his ribs, but he doesn't have time to think about it before Keith is moving lower, dragging his lips over each ridge of Shiro's abdomen with purpose. 

Shiro's not even sure when Keith managed to get his belt buckle undone and his pants open, but he's urging Shiro to raise his hips so he can tug his uniform pants and boxer briefs down in one smooth movement. Shiro's almost embarrassed by how hard he already is when Keith hasn't even touched his dick yet, but the way Keith looks down at him like a man starving really makes any shame he might have felt go up in smoke. 

He reaches out, sliding his left hand behind Keith's neck and pulling him in for a kiss, searing hot and borderline sloppy, neither of them in much of a state for finesse anymore. He nips at Keith's lower lip as they part, drawing a growl out of him, a sound Shiro wants to hear again and again and again. 

That'll have to be later, though, because right now Keith is dipping his head and swallowing Shiro's cock down in one smooth, slow motion that has him seeing stars and struggling against every urge screaming at him to thrust into that warm, wet heat. 

"Keith," he manages, his voice barely a wheeze. Keith looks up at him, and the sight of that nearly does Shiro in. " _God_ , Keith." In response, Keith merely reaches out, fumbling a bit until he finds Shiro's hand and drags it to the top of his head. 

Right. His hair -- that was where this all had started, after all. 

Keith doesn't move until Shiro has carefully threaded his fingers into Keith's dark locks, the half-braid an unraveling mess that nonetheless gives Shiro something to hold onto. At the first experimental tug, Keith hums happily, then follows the movement up, his lips a soft pillow on the tip of Shiro's cock for a moment before he's going down again, setting a rhythm punctuated by Shiro pulling on his hair. 

Shiro is awash in sensation, unable to focus on just one. Keith's soft lips, his clever tongue, the way his fingers dig into Shiro's thighs _just_ this side of too hard. The way his silky-smooth hair feels in Shiro's grip, the way the vibrations from Keith's groans shoot straight through to the base of Shiro's spine when Shiro pulls harder on his hair. 

He's been thinking about this for too long, and while he wishes he could stay here forever, he's not going to last and he knows it. 

* * *

Keith can't quite believe what's happening, but the weight of Shiro's cock in his mouth and the pressure of his hand in Keith's hair is pretty convincing. From the salty taste of Shiro on his tongue to the way Shiro's thigh muscles keep quivering under Keith's fingers, he feels _surrounded_ by Shiro and he can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be. 

He's employing every clever trick he knows, relaxing his throat to swallow Shiro down to the root every few strokes, hollowing his cheeks with suction, pressing his tongue _just there_ when he notices how it makes Shiro shiver. At least, he tries to do those things when he's not being distracted by the pleasure shooting down his spine like so much electricity every time Shiro tugs on his hair. 

It doesn't take long for his own pants to become unbearably tight; Shiro is moaning and cursing under Keith, and every bit of it is going straight to his dick. He finally works one hand down to shove his pants open, groaning at the momentary relief when he allows himself to stroke once, twice.

He never loses his rhythm on Shiro, bobbing his head steadily and letting his free hand explore Shiro's chest in the meantime. Feeling Shiro tremble under his touch is a heady thing, something he hopes he's able to focus more on later. 

Somewhere in amongst the swearing and moaning, Keith realizes Shiro is actually trying to say something. 

"Keith, baby..." And _oh_ , what that does to him. "Keith, I need to- I'm gonna-" 

Keith takes the warning for what it is, but keeps going. He wants to take everything Shiro can give him, wants to swallow around him until he's shaking and wrung out. The thought has him reaching down to his own dick again, pumping desperately in time to the rhythm he's maintaining on Shiro. 

Then Shiro's hand in his hair tightens, _pulls_ , harder than he has before, and the shock of the pleasure of it rockets through Keith. His orgasm is almost a surprise as it washes over him, leaving him shaking as he swallows around Shiro’s own release, the sound of Shiro's choked-off cry loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Keith isn’t sure how much time passes before he blinks his eyes open, still shuddering through the aftershocks of his orgasm. Shiro is looking down at him in something like wonder, his hand running lightly over Keith's hair. 

"Are you okay?" Shiro asks. "Did I pull too hard?" 

Keith can only laugh, pulling his pants up as he moves onto the couch by Shiro. "No, Shiro. God, no. That was amazing." 

Shiro hums in agreement, reaching an arm around Keith to pull him in close. " _You're_ amazing," he retorts, kissing Keith deeply. Keith can't help but wonder if Shiro can taste himself in Keith's mouth, and the thought makes him shiver. 

"I know we need to talk, like you said," Keith says, a few minutes later. "But do you think I could shower first? I kinda made a mess of these pants," he admits, cringing a little. 

"Of course," Shiro agrees easily. "You don't have to, but… if you wanted to stay, we could talk over breakfast," he offers. 

It seems like it should be harder than this, Keith thinks. They've just changed the whole landscape of their relationship, the most important relationship in Keith's life. It feels like it should be a struggle, or at least come with some insecurity, but now that they're here, there's nothing of the sort. 

It feels perfectly natural to shower together, their touches playful and reverent by turn, but always, always welcomed. It makes sense to slide into bed together, Keith's chest pressed tightly to Shiro's back as they curl up under the blankets. And he knows, somehow, that in the morning, their conversation will help everything else come together just as easily.

**Author's Note:**

> It's always Sheith hours over on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/B1ackPa1adins). Come say hi!


End file.
